


i don't feel any different

by putorius



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mention of Panic Attacks, New Year's Eve, mention of depression, not fluff but not angst, this isnt as heavy as those tags look lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putorius/pseuds/putorius
Summary: “Hey,” said Enjolras. “I wanted to ask - if you - I don’t know if -”“Don’t give yourself a hernia,” said Grantaire.“Were you going to kiss anyone at midnight?” asked Enjolras.---happy new year!
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 135





	i don't feel any different

**Author's Note:**

> long time no see! heres just a quick little new years one shot. personally, i spent my new years eve watching the countdown in animal crossing with my dad, which is like, ideal. happy new year!

Because the party was in his apartment, Enjolras had technically been in attendance since the beginning. In reality, Enjolras had spent the first part of the evening finishing up some writing and then doing some reading - he’d set a yearly book goal last January that he intended to keep, but he’d made it with the stipulation that all books he counted needed to be books he was reading for fun, not for school or work. He liked reading - he truly did - but he’d miscalculated how much time he’d be able to dedicate to pleasure reading in between school and work and the ABC and now needed to squeeze in his final novel right before the wire. Admittedly, he wasn’t having very much fun.

Around eleven, Enjolras finished his book and logged it carefully into Goodreads, and finally,  _ finally _ made his way to the party proper. He’d greeted most everyone as they’d arrived - they were using his room as the coat room and most people had poked their heads in when dropping their shit on his bed - but he’d not seen Grantaire all evening. This was bizarre, as Grantaire could be trusted to make an appearance at every party any member of the ABC held and it was below freezing outside, so he must’ve worn a jacket. Or, he should’ve worn a jacket. Enjolras knew that sometimes Grantaire did reckless things, like forgetting a jacket when it was below freezing, without really meaning to. He seemed, sometimes, to have little awareness or care for his body.

Enjolras tried to stop thinking about Grantaire and his body. It made him crazy. Going on, what, fiveish months now, Enjolras had been nursing a terrible little crush on Grantaire, and it made him near frantic just to think about too hard. It was almost torture in some ways - despite his best efforts, Enjolras’ mouth sometimes did things without the permission of his head, and when Grantaire did things that made Enjolras feel altogether untethered or otherwise out to sea, Enjolras was likely to snap violently the same way that little boys were taught to push little girls in the mud, as though there was no other outlet for strong emotion but violence.

So, Enjolras liked Grantaire, but he needed to make a point of being nicer about it. He’d actually been doing a relatively good job the past couple of weeks, but it was difficult to find a balance. He couldn’t be - and didn’t want to be - actively horrible to Grantaire, but he couldn’t be too overly kind either, because Enjolras really wasn’t sweet with anybody. If he started baking cookies for Grantaire, everyone would assume that he’d been snatched and replaced with a body double, one who may have a vested interest in poisoning Grantaire by cookie. And just the other day, at their last meeting of the year, Grantaire had been riffing off him so hard and so cleverly that Enjolras was having a difficult time keeping up, and, increasingly frustrated, he eventually said, “Grantaire, what the hell is  _ wrong _ with you?” with as much malice as he could muster. In a convenient turn of events, this made Grantaire laugh.

Enjolras ran into Joly on his way to the kitchen. He noticed Grantaire off in the corner by himself, tucked away on the far couch nursing a solo cup. It was uncommon to see Grantaire alone at a party, but he didn’t appear to be in a very good mood. Enjolras ignored him and focused his attention on Joly, who had brought homemade baked goods to the party, and who was explaining helpfully which ones were regular, which were allergy safe, and which had heaping amounts of weed in them. Then, Enjolras was accosted by Bahorel, who rubbed a noogie into his head, and then Musichetta, who kissed him on both cheeks and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he absolutely must help her with this project she’s been working on for class.

“I need someone who could find their way around the library blindfolded and spun around,” she said. “The books I’m looking for are absolutely fucking ancient, I can’t find them anywhere.”

All the while, Enjolras was distantly aware of Grantaire in the corner by himself. How bizarre, for Grantaire. How bizarre for a party.

“Excuse me,” said Enjolras. He pretended to occupy himself with a punch bowl - as though he was going to drink whatever sweet hell of alcohol was mixed up in there - before cutting directly to Grantaire.

“You don’t seem like you’re having a very good time,” said Enjolras bluntly. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to get me to take shots by now?”

Grantaire winced grimly. “I’m not drinking.”

Enjolras sat down on the couch beside Grantaire. When Enjolras thought of Grantaire, drinking tended to come shortly after. Every other story Bahorel or Jehan had to tell about Grantaire normally started with  _ this one night, we were out drinking, and _ or  _ this one day, he woke up in the next city _ or  _ the first mistake was mixing Grantaire and vodka… _ Though he had many accomplishments unrelated to drunken shenanigans, no one seemed to have as much fun talking about them as they did talking about all the times Grantaire had made a fool of himself. Though, now that Enjolras was thinking about it, he hadn’t actually observed any drunkenness from Grantaire in quite some time, nor had he heard any recent stories - everyone was still retelling the old ones. He immediately felt embarrassed and ashamed for not having noticed before.

“Well that’s -” said Enjolras. “- good.”

Grantaire snorted. “Thanks.”

“No, really,” said Enjolras. “I think that’s a good decision for you.”

“Oh, since you’ve given me your approval, I suppose it’s -”

“Do you have to do that? You know I didn’t mean it like that,” said Enjolras.

“Sorry,” said Grantaire. Then, after some consideration: “It’s just easy to be mean to you.”

“I know the feeling,” said Enjolras. Grantaire lifted his finger and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Enjolras, quickly, said, “Don’t even think about it. It’s a holiday.”

“What, you’re nice on holidays?” asked Grantaire.

“I’m never really nice,” admitted Enjolras. “But I try not to be cruel on holidays. What are you drinking?”

Grantaire swirled his cup. “San Pellegrino. It’s bitter.”

“I like those,” said Enjolras flatly.

He and Grantaire stared at each other.

“Dude, this is one of the worst conversations we’ve ever had,” said Grantaire.

“God, I know,” said Enjolras. “I’m just trying not to -”

“Be a bitch?” said Grantaire.

“Fuck off,” said Enjolras. “But yes. I’ve been trying to be nicer lately.”

“I’ve noticed. Look,” said Grantaire, shifting in his seat. “I’m not going to fall apart if you’re a  _ little _ bit of a bitch.”

“Oh, you aren’t?” said Enjolras. “And here I was, under the impression that you had the thinnest skin in all of France.”

Grantaire leaned back and examined his own bare forearms, careful not to slosh his drink.

“What on Earth are you doing?” asked Enjolras.

“Checking for injuries,” said Grantaire. “Burn marks and the like.”

“Why?” asked Enjolras, though he could already sense the answer would annoy him.

“Mm,” hummed Grantaire. “No, everything looks fine. I have survived your acting like a little bitch. See? Not even a scratch.”

The ends of Enjolras’ mouth curled and he looked away from Grantaire and towards the far corner of the room, as though that would stop Grantaire from seeing the edges of his smile.

“Maybe it’s better when we’re a little mean to each other,” said Enjolras.

“I certainly think so,” said Grantaire. “I mean, you’re not nice to anyone. I don’t see why I should get special treatment just because we have a history of screaming at each other.”

“I do want to apologize for that, though,” said Enjolras.

Grantaire waved a hand. “Unnecessary.”

“I can be - terrible, sometimes,” said Enjolras.

“You’ll make me vomit,” said Grantaire. “And I haven’t even had a drink.”

“All I mean,” said Enjolras. “Is that I don’t hate you and don’t want to give off the impression that I do.”

Grantaire glanced around the room quickly. He leaned in to Enjolras. “Are you aware that we’re being watched?”

“What?” said Enjolras. This seemed like such a sudden and unceremonious departure from the conversation he’d been trying to have.

Grantaire jerked his head towards the crowd. “Our friends. They’re expecting one of us to shout or storm off at some point. Probably they’re expecting me to spill my drink on you and for you to call me worthless. I don’t think they’ve really noticed I haven’t been drinking.”

“How long have you been sober?” asked Enjolras.

“Three months,” said Grantaire. “But it’s not-”

“That’s great, Grantaire.”

“ - it’s not all that, I mean, I’m not really - it’s not like some of those super bad alcoholics recovering. Like, it’s less that I have an alcohol dependency and more that I’m just like, depressed and alcohol is convenient,” said Grantaire.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That sounds like a good way to diminish how impressive it is to be three months sober.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not that big a deal,” said Grantaire.

“I’m just saying, it  _ is _ a big deal,” said Enjolras. “I’m proud of you.”

Grantaire stared at him, mouth parted. Despite not drinking, his cheeks were slightly flushed behind his stubble, presumably from the crowd and heat of the room, and his lower lip was bitten red from his worrying at it. For a moment, Enjolras worried he’d gone too far in the opposite direction - instead of cutting at Grantaire with excessive malice, he’d overstepped positively.

“Well,” said Grantaire, turning away. “Whatever. Are you doing the whole New Year’s resolution thing?”

“Yes,” said Enjolras.

Grantaire looked surprised. “Oh? I thought you’d think it’s stupid.”

“It  _ is _ kind of stupid,” said Enjolras. “There is so significant difference between today and tomorrow. I might as well have started my resolutions last week, or two months ago, it doesn’t matter. Or at least,” he corrected himself. “If there is a difference between today and tomorrow, it’s man made. Which is something I find worthwhile.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” said Grantaire. “What’s the resolution?”

“Therapy,” said Enjolras. He tried not to sound embarrassed. “I have to go for a year.”

Grantaire was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know you’d needed therapy.”

“What, because I seem so well-adjusted to you?” said Enjolras.

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” said Grantaire. “You just seem like one of those people who can market their dysfunction as determination, and skip the whole therapy thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired of having panic attacks in the shower,” said Enjolras.

He regretted it almost as soon as he said it. The shower is one of the more undignified places to have a panic attack - the nakedness, namely, is messy and embarrassing - and Enjolras suddenly didn’t want Grantaire to picture him naked if it was a doubled over, soap in his eyes, dry-heaving with terror sort of nakedness.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” said Grantaire. Then: “Sorry.”

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” said Enjolras. He looked towards their friends. “Christ, they really are watching us. Do you think they think they’re being subtle?”

“They’re sort of tipsy, at the least,” said Grantaire. “They probably think they could pull off a heist right now. Look, I’m going to go and say something rancorously funny to Jehan and Bossuet, and you go off and say something mildly disapproving of whatever shot game Courfeyrac is trying to involve Combeferre in. That’ll seem more normal to them.”

“I’d much rather talk to you,” said Enjolras.

Grantaire smiled at him. How often had he seen Grantaire smile? He had straight teeth.

“I’ll meet you back here before midnight. That way, I won’t have to chug something stupid for the countdown,” said Grantaire.

Enjolras wondered how long Grantaire had felt alone in their friend group, how long he’d felt backed into a corner by a rowdy, reckless persona. The longer they talked about it, the more Enjolras could see it - Grantaire himself was kind of a party trick, and their friends had grown used to watching his disaster. He was sure that if either he or Grantaire vocalized this to the group, they would feel terribly about it. There was no way they’d done it on purpose, and they probably didn’t enjoy it with the malice that Grantaire seemed to think they did, but they still watched.

Instead of dealing with it, Enjolras followed Grantaire’s suggestion and went to bother Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Courfeyrac was, in fact, trying to coax Combeferre into a drinking game, but Comveferre was only pretending to resist. It was his favorite way of flirting with Courfeyrac, because it made Courfeyrac so delighted when he finally “wore down” Combeferre. Enjolras laughed and muttered with them and rejected the shots which were offered to him, and he allowed Cosette to pinch his cheeks warmly, and all the while he kept a distant eye on Grantaire.

Grantaire was stocky and had been as long as Enjolras had known him, but he used to be stocky in an awkward, disproportionate way, like his natural stature leaned towards stock while he was then-presently underfed or overworked or both, so he’d previously had a gauntness along his form. Now he was flushed and filled-out, with big hands and shoulders. He was only an inch taller than Enjolras and Enjolras wasn’t especially willowy since he’d learned to balance grad school and a regular eating schedule, but he still felt dwarfed by Grantaire in the best possible way. Watching Grantaire boisterously challenge Bossuet to an arm wrestling match, Enjolras wanted to climb inside Grantaire’s skin and stay there. He sort of wanted to bite one of the veins up Grantaire’s forearm, actually.

“So, who are we kissing at midnight?” said Courfeyrac playfully. “Any ideas?”

Combeferre blushed. Enjolras looked quickly - against his better judgement - towards Grantaire to see if he was leaning towards anyone in particular. He remembered that Grantaire had kissed Jehan or Eponine on other years.

“And who are  _ you _ looking for?” asked Courfeyrac, craning his neck to see.

“No one,” said Enjolras. “Shut up.”

“Oh my God, do you want to kiss someone? You have someone in mind?” said Courfeyrac.

“Drop it, Courfeyrac,” said Enjolras.

“Drop it, he says, as though this isn’t the first I’m hearing of this, as though this isn’t the first time you’ve wanted to kiss someone on New Year’s,” said Courfeyrac.

“I’ve kissed people on New Year’s before,” said Enjolras petulantly, but even he knew it was a weak argument. Those kisses had been during class parties as a teenager, and had been more a product of peer pressure than any particular want to kiss anybody.

“And you,” said Courfeyrac, turning to Combeferre. “How can you have nothing to say about this?”

Combeferre’s eyes flicked towards Enjolras, sparkling with amusement. Combeferre knew, as the rest of their friends didn’t, that Enjolras had been harbouring a crush on Grantaire for a few months now. Enjolras would’ve gone insane if he hadn’t had someone to talk to about it, and he’d known that Courfeyrac would’ve gotten too excited and he may have tried to push Enjolras and Grantaire together. Combeferre could be trusted to be calm and collected about the situation, which was excellent, because thinking about Grantaire too hard made Enjolras feel like he needed to unravel a sweater by hand.

“Holy shit, you know something,” said Courfeyrac. “What do you know? Does Enjolras like someone?” Courfeyrac whirled towards Enjolras. “Do you  _ like _ someone?”

“I like a lot of people,” said Enjolras.

“Oh, yes, he’s a very friendly person,” said Combeferre, laughing. “That’s what Enjolras is known for.”

“I can’t believe you’re both harbouring information that you know would make me insane,” said Courfeyrac. “And you claim to be my friends.”

“I think Cosette is going to try and kiss Eponine at midnight,” said Enjolras in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Yes, we all knew that,” said Courfeyrac. “You’ll need to give me something more interesting than that if you want me to move on from trying to figure out who you want to kiss. Is it Joly?”

“Why on Earth would it be Joly?” asked Enjolras.

“Would you like to kiss me at midnight?” said Combeferre to Courfeyrac.

This was distracting enough. Courfeyrac startled and stuttered and seemed to momentarily forget that Enjolras was even standing there. Courfeyrac cleared his throat.

“Now  _ that _ is distracting, but rather unfair,” said Courfeyrac. “Nice try.”

“No, I’m being genuine,” said Combeferre. “Any distraction you experience from Enjolras and his predicament is merely a side effect.”

“I -” Courfeyrac smiled. “Do you mean it?”

This seemed as good a time as any to bail. It was nearing midnight and Enjolras didn’t want Grantaire to think he was leaving him hanging.

Grantaire wasn’t back at the couch yet by the time Enjolras got there, but he caught his eye and winked, an action he pulled off so easily and classically while Enjolras would’ve looked like a complete fool trying to pull off.

He would have to decide, between the wink and whenever Grantaire made his way back over to the couch, he would have to decide if he wanted to kiss Grantaire at midnight. And, because he was neurotic, he would have to ask Grantaire’s permission before he did it. He thought about how little he’d kissed people in general, and how precarious his relationship with Grantaire was at present, and how much he wanted to kiss him. Very badly, he thought. Enjolras wanted to kiss Grantaire very badly.

Grantaire’s eyes were twinkling when he returned to the couch.

“Miss me?” he asked.

“Oh, desperately,” said Enjolras, and he wasn’t really joking. “Did you miss me?”

“I almost died of the pain,” said Grantaire. “You know, being separated from you is not easy.

“I’m flattered,” said Enjolras. “You seem like you’re in a better mood.”

“I had something to look forward to,” said Grantaire.

“Hey,” said Enjolras. “I wanted to ask - if you - I don’t know if -”

“Don’t give yourself a hernia,” said Grantaire.

“Were you going to kiss anyone at midnight?” asked Enjolras. Their friends were starting to gather in front of the television, on which played the impending countdown for their region. Midnight was inching closer.

Grantaire blinked at him. “Well, I think Jehan and Eponine are taken this year,” he said, which wasn’t as much of an answer as he seemed to think.

“I’d like to kiss you at midnight,” said Enjolras quickly, before he could talk himself out of it.

“Me?” said Grantaire.

“You,” said Enjolras.

“You?” said Grantaire.

“Me,” said Enjolras. “You don’t have to.”

“In the interest,” said Grantaire carefully. “Of emotional vulnerability -”

“Please don’t embarrass me,” said Enjolras, suddenly convinced that Grantaire knew and had known for months how Enjolras felt about him.

“Embarrass you? I’m about to embarrass myself,” said Grantaire. “I just think you should know, if you’re going to kiss me, that I used to have a bit of a thing for you.”

Enjolras took a moment to process this. He glanced at the television, which warned him the new year would come in just around forty-five seconds.

“You used to have a thing for me?” asked Enjolras.

“Used to is a bit of an exaggeration,” admitted Grantaire. “I have it under control now. But, you know, if I was going to engage in a New Year’s kiss with someone I didn’t like and I knew that they liked me, it might change my opinion of -”

“You’re talking so much,” said Enjolras. “And we have very little time.”

“I’m down if you’re down,” said Grantaire.

“Would it change your opinion if you knew I felt - if there were maybe some similarities between -”

“You’re talking so much and we have very little time,” said Grantaire.

“If I liked you as well,” said Enjolras.

_ 10. _

Grantaire stared at him.

_ 9. _

“Well?” asked Enjolras.

_ 8 _ .

“I can’t even think about it,” said Grantaire. “Not clearly.”

_ 7. _

“I should’ve said something sooner,” said Enjolras.

_ 6. _

“You only just began to tolerate me tonight,” said Grantaire. “Or maybe it’s been a couple weeks, you  _ have _ been nicer recently.”

_ 5. _

“I’ve liked you for about five months,” said Enjolras.

_ 4. _

“Five  _ months _ ?” said Grantaire.

_ 3. _

“We don’t have to kiss,” said Enjolras.

_ 2 _ .

“Like hell we don’t,” said Grantaire.

_ 1. _

_ Happy New Year! _

**Author's Note:**

> peer recognition, peer approval? please consider leaving a comment if you liked it, or maybe sending me an ask/dm on tumblr @putoriius? if i dont respond its bc im not logged in lol


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